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Kinktober Day 19: Inflation

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It takes Rene’ a few moments to drag himself out of the slow, hazy pit of unconsciousness. Judging from the heaviness of his limbs, it had to have been a rather heavy, if not drugged sleep for him to wake up leaned up against a wall, but right away, he also noticed the strange restrained around his head. Brows furrowing as he started to blink awake, his fingers lifted immediately, only to find that it was secured over his face. Four metal-reinforced straps secured it, one over and then under each cheek. Any attempt to move forward was met with the immediate rattle of a chain behind him, connected to a collar circling his neck that he hadn’t noticed in his panic at feeling the mask over his face. The chain couldn’t be any longer than a foot, keeping him practically pinned against the wall as his breath started to shorten as his panic rose.

It was only when he met this hectic, panicked state of full consciousness did the television, sitting on a rickety stand in front of him, flicked on. He hadn’t noticed it in the frenzy of trying to free himself, though the rolling screen of white static soon flickered to the face of a puppet with rosy spirals on its pallid, terrifyingly carved cheeks.

“Rene’,” a rough voice greeted, the puppet’s mouth moving as he spoke, though Rene’ couldn’t see who or what was controlling it. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite a situation, haven’t you?”

Rene’ felt his eyes widen in terror at the site of the puppet, and his muffled reply was barely audible over the secure seal of the mask on his face.

“You shouldn’t bother,” the puppet’s rough voice continued. “The mask you’re secured in is effectively soundproof for the duration of my little… experiment. You’re going to be serving a greater purpose while you’re here. Every bit of data you provide me will be crucial in how I develop more fitting punishments for others. If you can escape, then you’ll find the door to your left. If you can’t… well, you’ll see. Prepare to have a much bigger problem.” The gruff voice echoing from the television concluded, and the video ended with a sharp pitched, frantic cackling as the puppet’s mouth opened, only for the television to suddenly go black. Just as Jigsaw had warned, the sounds of concerned protest he made were silenced by the cusp of the mask over his face.

Slowly, the sound of a motor turning on above him caught his attention, and it was only then that Rene’ caught sight of the hose attached to the front of the mask over his face. He followed it up to a tank that seemed to be hanging from the ceiling, with the motor beginning to compress the substance of the metal tank down into the hose leading to the mask. In the dimness of the room, he could see the word ‘FATGAS’ written across the label.

The scent of something sweet started to fill his senses, forcing him to breathe in the mysterious, nefarious substance of the gas canister. His muted sounds were echoing in the mask again, squirming as he tried to pull forward, only for the metal collar to stop him short again. The gurgle within his belly started right away, though it caused him no pain. It was a sensation that drew shock from him more than anything, and as Rene’ bent his head down against the collar restraining him to the wall, he was met with both the sight and sensation of himself starting to grow. It began in his belly, which had started to swell with no warning. He had been in a sleeveless tank before, but now it had started to rise up over his stomach, and ‘FATGAS’ was starting to make much more sense. His hand reached to press against his own belly, finding that his fingers were starting to sink into the plush expanse of his gut. It was impossible for him to tell just how big he was with his limited range of view, but each breath that he took seemed to be lingering within him, even after he exhaled.

There was fat building under the skin, just under the skin of his stomach. It made his hand dip and almost disappear into the thick deposit of chub that was bloating his belly out in front of him. Where his tank top had hung loose on him before, it was drawing taunt around his chest over the rise of his stomach like a halter top instead. What one might have called a ‘spare tire’ in the fat building on his belly was now fully the size if a real tire, and it was still growing by the second. He reached up to try and tug at the mask again, only to realize that there was a little more slack in the line leading up from the mask, and that his collar was starting to feel tighter by the second. His neck was starting to plump out, but Jigsaw had foreseen this; it wouldn’t choke him, even if it was starting to make him breathe a little more frantically at the possibility. It was all according to Jigsaw’s plan.

The slack in the line, however, was from one thing only: just as the fat was building in Rene’s belly, there were also heavy deposits of it starting to well under the curve of his ass. Each cheek was starting to rise gradually, lifting him further and further up from his original position. His belly was spilling out over his legs now, soft against his thickening thighs, but given his hasty breathing because of the collar, he’s only pumping more and more of that gas into his system on each breath. He let out a faint grunt, finally feeling his neck start to bulge around the collar, at which point he started to pull forward desperately, afraid of being choked.

Both legs were swollen heavily now, each one as thick as his body was normally before the gas. Pushing some momentum up under his knees, which he could barely bend from how thick the fat was in each thigh, he lurched forward, and finally felt the immediate snap of pressure releasing from around his neck. The chain, no longer able to hold him to the wall with how much his back was swelling and inflating behind him, snapped just as his neck grew too thick to be contained by the collar any more either. Both chunks of metal, now useless, fell forgotten behind him against the wall, though he was already towering over where he had been restrained just a few short minutes ago.

“Mmph-!” Finally able to move from the wall, he stood on two, massive, shaky legs. His entire frame was actually starting to balloon with fat now, his arms stretched out on either side of his now massive, swollen chest. His shirt was barely able to contain the swell of his pectorals, nearly resembling large breasts with how they strained and bulged against the tank top. He took one massive, shaking step forward, his stomach having swollen the size of a small car at that point, but because of his massive size by then, he had no sense of control over his momentum. His arms had ballooned up was well, his upper arms the size of large beach balls, and given that his lower arms were swelling up to the sizes of basketballs, they weren’t far behind in catching up.

His cheeks were now puffing out, swollen and chubby between the four straps that still secured the mask to his face. Each leg was rapidly approaching the same size as his tummy as well, with his pants straining desperately to stay wrapped around his bulbous, rotund hips. One wobble was all it took for him to lurch forward a little, and with that, the television stand where the puppet had mocked him was knocked away on the floor. It left Rene’ plenty of room, because he was a long way from being done with growing. Rene’s entire body was rotund now, nothing but curve after curve from the way his upper arms and lower arms seemed to be gradually swelling to combine in their layers of fat, encompassing his elbow and leaving him with no mobility. His wrist was quickly being consumed with the layers of fat as well, leaving only his hands poking out from the swell, each finger chubby and immobile as well.

He was nearly four times the size he had started at now—at least in height. In weight, there was easily enough sheer mass that made up his body now that he could have fit inside of this new frame eight times over. The tube connected to the canister of FATGAS now seemed to be receding, the extra slack in the line disappearing as his frame began to grow to fit the small room he had been trapped in. He could feel his body rising to approach it, and that was when he lose balance.

Like a hot air balloon, Rene’ was still expanding rapidly, with no visible limit to his expansion on the horizon. His chest and stomach were beginning to round out now, and with a groan, he tilted forward onto his belly, no longer able to support his humongous size on his legs. What was left of his recognizable body was quickly being pushed out and upwards, rolling forward onto his stomach, which served as a massive, squishy cushion for the rest of his expanding body.

As his legs began to lose shape, morphing slowly into one large, circular frame that seemed to only be divided from his ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ body by how his pants had, miraculously, stayed around his lower half. It seemed the fat of his body had even begun to encompass his upper thighs, with his limbs receding gradually into the amorphous blob of fat that was slowly turning Rene’ into a sphere. Only his upper body was still discernible by the two orbs that were only misshapen by the small crease where his hands still slipped out. His chest remained barely divided from his belly by the black tank top still, which held his bulging pectorals, each one nearly triple the size of his head, still balanced carefully on his inflated body like a cherry on several generous scoops of ice cream. The mask’s metal bonds were clearly made of something more durable than the collar and chain to the wall had been—they stayed latched at the back of his head, no matter how his neck seemed to disappear with in the folds of his body, or how far his cheeks poked out, almost akin to how a chipmunk or squirrel might have stored an entire winter’s storage in their face.

Both rosy swells of his cheeks also seemed to replicate the full size of Rene’s head—and by now, they had grown in such size that he could barely see around them, their round, orb shapes swelling on the front of his face until the fat seemed to start to tilt back towards his ears as well.

Like how his arms had devolved into one, thick ball of blubber a piece, his lower legs had also seemed to grow in size, creating two more round protrusions from the bus-sized man’s lower half. There was a small dip for each foot, and after what felt like an hour of feeling his body growing and growing and growing, he felt the curve of his ass tap the ceiling. Beyond the rise of his cheeks, Rene’ saw the can of FATGAS that had been hung high on the ceiling, only a couple of inches in front of his gave.

With a groan he squirmed to try and dislodge it, but by now, it had made him completely immobile. Stuck in the room with no way of escape, each little movement only seemed to make him uselessly jiggle and wobble, sending waves of vibration through his bloated, massive, and helpless body.